The Memories of The Guard
by the snow shadow
Summary: A series of thoughts and reports from my Only War characters. Guardsmen who gave their life in service of the Imperium. They are the Fiaura's Flying Frags from the Haven of Volk and this is the deaths and victories of those who fought to secure the lost forge world of Elphanor in the Hellfire crusade.
1. Mikulas Casmirre Wasserlied: psyker

I rest there on my knees. A criminal of a mistake. A mistake made in the hopes to save others. I had pleaded my case and now I awaited my fate. I had allowed taint in thought, an action I had thought need to save my fellow guardsmen. It had taken me, and though I had thrown it off with no harm to my brothers, I had broken the creeds I sought to protect and dishonored the men I had lead. Now I awaited the commissars choice at the edge of a river and crater of a temple I had obliterated with the fires of the Emperor's wrath.

My men and those lost guards, we had saved watched me. They stood quite as the man who lead them into battle was turned into a prisoner. A fate I accepted. The only one who came to my defense was a rattling. A young lad on his first deployment. I am not sure why he tried to defend me, perhaps he was kind to some fellow mutant, or merely thought me innocent. I thanked him silently, even as the commissar rendered his judgment. Death.

I suspected as much, I had known the man in my first deployment on Elphanor. A monster who cared more for his own glory than his men. I was giving only a moment for my final words.

 _Blessed be the emperor, blessed be my so.._.

The commissar pulled and with a loud retort, his bolt shell blasted forth, cutting off my final words. I watched as it hung there, trying desperately but futilely to bore into my skin. It seemed like a miracle till it exploded against my head, consuming me in fire, that tickled my skin. I felt almost nothing until the concussive force hit me. I fell to the ground, limp. My body unscathed. My mind trapped as a prisoner as I laid there, dimly aware of reality.

They seemed all surprised, I could hear them wondering in awe. Some thought it a blessing, others thought it proof of taint. I wanted to do anything, to scream at these men who put me to death when I had led them to the safety they now rested at. I wanted blood, but it was not me.

One of them tried to give the mercy of a cut throat, only to grind his blade to dust against my skin

I tried to call out, but I skimpily fell backward into an oily sea. I could feel an unnatural hate flowing forward. My body moving on its own as my flesh twisted with the unnatural anger of a being greater than me. As I fell into in an ocean of blood and fire, I did only what I could. Fight.

I pulled into the darkness, trying to entrap me. Skeletal hands and living blood pulling me down. I forced it away with futile kicks and clawing, pulling myself out and throwing my mind against the creature that was trying to take me. I succeeded only in causing it to snap back at me, freeing a soundless scream to echo across a sea of souls. I did not stop though. It would not have me. I needed to break its control for only a moment.

The sea of hate and anger roared as it tried to main its control as it fought bolt shells and me. The shells began to ring against my flesh again and again. Its arcane powers protecting my flesh as it corrupted my form. The boiling sea cried out and I forced my feet free. It was the one second I needed, as a shell impacted and ended my life.

The beast of the warp cried out as its gateway was lost. I felt tendrils of promethean heat grab my soul and begin to drag me into the unknown torments that it intended for me. I could only smile, knowing that I had taken much more from it than it could take from or do to me.

 _Blessed be the emperor, blessed be my soul. Blessed be the light of Terra, may it guard me as return to the fold of his majesty._

As I sunk below the immaterial waves of boiling blood, my final thoughts were of the waters of my birth world and the living stones of the one which adopted me in the guard. My final words, _blessed be the emperor._


	2. Battle Report: Corporal Ivan Yorke

This is battle-report from Corporal Ivan Yorke, to the members of the Inquisition as per your request, detailing my recent excursion into enemy territory to secure intelligence. I, along with the other members of this squad, was assigned this mission several hours ago. While it lacked much of the necessary stealth, such a skill set has never been much in the purview of our regiment. We were able to capture an enemy officer, destroy a major supply of munitions, and deal a decisive blow to the enemy forces in the area.

Imperial artillery fire seemed to have kept us concealed as we made our approach to the enemy forward operating base. The valkyrie was able to land safely, discreetly near the trench line. It is only unfortunate that the artillery bombing was the most subtle part of the operation. A fact to which I admit is partially my fault.

It began as we were approaching the parapet. we had thus far maintained stealth, yet as we got into position to assault the trench, the groundwork beneath my feet gave way. It sent me tumbling down into the enemy trench-line, bruising my ass. One of the more eager stormtroopers, the one who didn't nearly blow herself up or Private Kaleser, also made the unfortunate mistake of approaching too close and being spotted. While I am not sure of combat doctrine I disagree with her choice to scream at the enemy in a stealth mission. I have been told screaming is not stealthy.

I was able to scramble out of the trench before the secessionists were able to fire on me. I managed to secure a firing position just as my allies were beginning the assault, called by Sergeant Gunther, no doubt seeing any chance of catching our enemies unaware had long since turned futile. Personally, we could have rolled in several with baneblades and we might not have been heard. I say this not only because I want to ride in one. but I am getting away from the point.

I was not able to fire back at first thought, my multi laser started to overload a bit as I began to turn it on. I had to calm my darling down, lest the machine spirit takes its anger out on us. He is a very fierce beast, named Victor. I had forgotten to inscribe images of feminine moral improvement upon the scroll work which hangs from him. A tradition between me and him since I was given him. I believe calms it Victor to honor its spirit and the fact I named him for my child back home I see as trying to honor the machine. The beast whirled in rage, but I soothed him with a bit of fine wine I had borrowed.

In that time, the rest of the squad engaged. Several enemy troopers were dispatched quickly and yet a number of the larger opponents were proving to be a problem.

Miss winter attempted to take down one of the larger brutes, it ended in her face down and ass up in the mud. Her panties were white, I was surprised that they were not pink. I had pegged her for a pink girl, but apparently not. I have never really gotten my fellow Corporal though. I mean it is her fault that she was not wearing anything under those robes.

Sergeant Gunther was forthwith in assisting her. The Psyker struck rather brutally, pissing himself at the same point. A cultist who despite losing both his arms managed to keep up his attack, even the utter incineration of his body he still managed to spit some strange burning slime into the psyker, through his chest. The psyker did spit it out though, I am not sure how, but God Emperor only knows what any of those mutant freaks do. I would be amiss to not admit to rather strange happenings the fire fight began and some of our weapons were fired. A series of rather strange events took place, whether these were happenstance or cultist tricks I could not say These events ranged from guns firing out the wrong end to creating doom mushroom clouds, though I saw little of the situation.

By the time I had calmed the machine spirit most of the enemies had been slain. I although was able to open fire, removing several traitors in combat with my squad, including one of their squad leaders.

Our first engagement ended in a rather anti-climactic way. The Stormtrooper who originally exposed herself simply ran forth and incapacitated one of the squad leaders with a quick kick to the cultist's family jewels. We were able to quickly take him back to the Valkyrie. During this time, medic Stubbs began working on the injured, specifically the psyker. The rest of us made our advance though as private Unna was returning the captured cultist to the Valkyrie.

It was not long before the more advanced forces were able to reach other and the fighting began again almost as quickly as it had ended. These were far tougher soldiers though, embraced in carapace and flak alike with hot shots.

During the opening seconds, I was given an order by Sergeant Gunther to throw a grenade into one of the enemy's guns bunker. I did as ordered without question, tossing a grenade through one of the gun holes, and it would seem that the traitors had been storing the vast majority of their munitions within. It resulted in minimum injuries on our side and numerous traitor's falling from the sky dead, sixteen by my count. The blast did end up harming a number of our troops though as an unintended side effect. I ducking managed to avoid much of the blast.

I must commend Private Stubbs in this matter, I do believe I saw him take much of the blast for his patients.

This sudden creation of Crater Von Yorke as we called it though offered us some respite as the blast seemed to have thrown off a number of the traitor stormtroopers It allowed us to charge and quickly begin to overwhelm them.

Sergeant Gunther absorbing much of the Firepower thrown at us while getting himself involved in a melee. Corporal Winter herself being caught in a melee as well. I and several of loyalist troops the began to fire on the traitor stormtroopers.

It for a time seemed to be a stalemate, neither side getting much in the way of damage. That was until under my instruction a rocket was launched into the main enemy fire squad and stormtroopers. I made the call knowing that we had friendlies close, a calculated risk. The missile bathed the area in flame and it seemed to be what was needed to turn the tide of battle. Most of the enemy forces were incinerated instantly with minimum injury to both Sergeant Gunther and Corporal winter. We were able to capitalize on our new numbers advantage. After I explored a man's leg, I was charged and could barely draw my sword to parry his blow.

The back and forth of blades kept me busy for a time. It was not until Private Phane was able to shoot past me and hit the cultist, knocking him to the ground. Taking the advantage, I properly slew the traitor. By the time I ended his life though, the rest of the squad had mopped up the traitors.

We took a moment to regroup. I and Private Phane took up firing positions above the trenches being the best shots. The rest of the squad began to fan out searching the local bunkers. It was then we found one of the traitor's champions. He was a disgusting mutated brute, likely ogyrn in nature. It was unfortunate that it managed to take a friendly, Private Kaleser in its hands. The combined fire of multiple las weapons and the Sergeant wielding his Eviscerator to do the most basic of damage. Corporal Winter had disappeared from the sight our the squad.

Volkite weaponry proved to utterly useless against the creature. A full volley from my multi-laser did not even scar the beast. In fact, the creature seemed to absorb the volkite and even begin to grow stronger from it. In the end, I ran back to the Valkyrie passing Private Unna who had just finished securing the captive. I set my suspensors to full power to mitigate any weight it could, as I took up the Valkyrie's heavy bolter.

As I was taking up the bolter, a las bolt skewered the captive we had secured. I turned about and could see that it was Private Phane that had shot the cultist. His reason for this action I am unsure, whether the cultist was not secure and was about to attack me I am unsure. I attempted to confront the trooper with a minor amount of expletives, but he seemed utterly confused at his own actions. Phane claimed that he did not shoot the man, his hot-shot still smoking and aimed at the cultist.

I did my best to reprimand him as I charged back into position and began to brace myself for firing it. Corporal Winter and the psyker were no longer within my sight, where they went I am unsure. The rest of the squad had engaged the champion.

Private Unna had attempted to flank around and got caught in a minefield, being incapacitated. The Creature was fleeing, almost entirely unharmed. I was able to open fire and released a fully volley into the creature. The bolt shells were able to blast off chunks faster than it could regenerate and before it could escape it was not but red mist. Private Stubbs made sure to quickly check on the injured storm trooper.

I began to look over the bolter, honoring its machine spirit, and by the Emperor's blessings ducked my head as a sniper's fire skimmed my helm. I could only fall to the ground with Private Phane. The others were protected by the recess of the trench, but I did my best to use my vantage point and report to them the sniper and the facilities barrenness, it had been abandoned from what I could see. Sensing something wrong, I reported that I thought they were about to blow the place to hell. We were well within enemy artillery ranger after all. It was not long before command reported the traitor forces moving in and the sound of falling artillery to confirm my suspicion. I was not exactly happy about being right, although it was kinda nice. A happy I told you so.

It was a race to withdraw from that point, I and Private Phane raced back to the Valkyrie in its hidden position and from now I can only say little of the transpiring events.

Sergent Gunther had gone to regroup with the others who were missing. The Psyker with some assistance seemed to have managed to secure a medical officer, sometime during the fighting and brought the female cultist back to Valkyrie. From what I heard over the microbead my fellow Corporal although broke off from the rest of the group. She was going to scout the rest of the bunkers and disappeared for a great deal of time, unaccounted for by anyone.

The major problem we were facing was the fact that Private Unna hand managed to locate a mine field. It was only a problem as she seemed to have taken an unintended nap. I tried to command the Valkyrie operator to fly us over the field to pick her up. He disobeyed the direct order from both I and Sergeant Gunther. I hope to see to punishment for his insubordination upon completion of this debriefing. If it was not for our need of him, I might have shot him then.

Like no sane man though, Sergeant Gunther waded through the minefield and even managed to throw himself in front of several blasts, to rescue Private Unna. She was alive, if only just. I must take this moment to give commendation to my Sergeant, abhuman or not, I know no better man in loyalty to his men and the Emperor. Gunther and Stubbs were then able to bring her back. Winter would return and board the Valkyrie last. We took off as fast as we could after that.

I did my best to fire down upon the advancing hoard until we were out of range, and then some. Only stopping when I was sure it was no longer needed, and Private Stubbs requested my assistance.

The cultist medical officer eventually to try to distract us, after a time. I was too busy assisting Private Stubbs to notice to notice much what she spoke of. Stubbs did attempt to sedate her, though the drugs took a rather long time to work. I do though recall her speaking with Corporal Winter, I heard the cultist whispering something about knowing the secrets the Corporal was hiding.

Corporal Winter was more than eager to silence the cultist after that and even began singing hymns to drown out the cultist. She although made no denial of these claims. I must confess a mistrust in Corporal Winter, last time we encountered traitor forces, she not only threatened a fellow officer in me but men directly under my command. Her actions all over a weapon another found and she guarded greedily. Which I personally broadcasted to command without the knowledge of the priest. I have yet to see it in her possession again though, but now she seems to be consorting with traitors. I am unsure if these events are linked, though it is my duty to report these suspicion. I know the accusation is dangerous to make against a member of the cloth. She, in my firm belief, is mentally unfit to serve at best. She could be a traitor at worst.

Not much happened for the rest of the journey. I sang "what do you do with a drunken voids men" until told to stop. I think I have a lovely shanty voice, but everyone is a critic.

In the name of the Immortal Emperor, Corporal Ivan Yorke. May the fire of our crusade light the darkness.

* * *

I know this was surposed to be for dying characters, but well It has been numerous weeks and though this guy is out of fates he is still alive. This is with a record of killing multiple space marines, an ork kroozer, and a greater daemon. In my only war game well our group just went through shit and the GM said every had to write these reports cause the inquistion was looking into this matter as so far as just Ivan and Gunther's F company has a history of doing what most regiments never do.

Either way I wrote this whole thing so why not post it.

Check out fictionpress for my normal stories. 7/6/2017


	3. Lamentation of Volkite: Ivan Yorke

**In fields of fire, I build thy pyre**

 **Your ferrous heart - shall burn no more**

 **my sweet child - son of ancient lore**

 **held you in times dire, with hope to respire**

Now are the days of blood and gold.

Where men are weak and metal cold 

Few are the men brave and bold

For a distant love, the line I hold

 **We knew no fear, none dared come near**

 **Full of anger's heart - you burned**

 **For our enemy's souls - you yearned**

 **Only I to shed a tear, my lost peer**

Now are the days of blood and gold.

Where men are weak and metal cold

Few are the men brave and bold

A woman distant my heart does hold

 **In death rest, your shards upon my chest**

 **now I descend - into the dark**

 **With Emerald blade - my one birthmark**

 **I'll withstand this test, one final quest**

Now are the days of blood and gold.

Where men are weak and metal cold

Few are the men brave and bold

My sweet son one day I shall hold

 **In fields of fire, I build thy pyre**

 **When all is done- I shall mourn**

 **In all my fury - you'll be reborn**

 **Through my lyre, thy shan't expire**

Now are the days of blood and gold.

Where men are weak and metal cold

Few are the men brave and bold

A place in honor we'll forever hold

 _Requiem aeternam dona ei, Domine Imperatoris_

 _Te et ipsum, ab alio renascetur_

 _Bellum renatus fueris cinere_

 _O ferrum Vulcani_

 _Rest my blade of fire, you did your duty until the end, we shall meet in the emperor's light_

 _~Ivan Yorke_

* * *

Well in my recent only war game, my guys gun, a volkite multi-laserer that he had been upgrading and backroom tweaking it since he god it. It though was sadly destroyed and while it started out as a joke among me and the other players and well it was quite fun actually doing it. Ivan has always been a bit of a singer and love the weapon so I make a Requiem for it. The bold and underline are just a way to break the stanza up.

Check out my account on fiction press for a lot of my main work and such.

8/8/17


	4. Corporal Ivan Yorke's Death

I'm not sure how it happened, I remember what happened, but in truth, I never really figured out how it happened. I guess in the end it doesn't really matter why something happened only that it did you had to find a way to deal with it, and the journey to do that. This is the story of my death and rebirth.

I am Ivan Yorke, Corporal of The Haven of Vulk's First Regiment F company. Commander Fiaura Fairgates' Flying Frags. I was once at least. And as I look down upon that which is... which is... oh how so much has changed.

It had all ended and began when we made planetfall. The men of Vulk were known as some of the best jump troopers and flyers in the Imperium... F company... well we had never found something that we could not crash. The Valkyrie barely hit atmo before we were sent tumbling down faster than an orgyrn with laces instead of velcro. Damn orks had to shot off the rust bucket with a bolter, something that turned out to be a far worse idea than it actually sounded. Squad A, I would bet every gelt I ever owned, though was far more proficient at surviving crashes and emergency jumps than any other unit the imperial guard had ever know.

I had managed to jump right as the tailspin started, kicking on my jump pack and kicked my sweet victor's antigrav plates into full power to maintain balance. It was a trick I learned on Epiris three when that gun ended up saving my tail. When I missed what airship we had meant to land on. Well, I ended up having to change up my jump pack's own fuel while straddling the multilaser and hoping to do it before I missed the ground. It was fun as all bloody hell but I would not recommend it. I ended up getting chased through the desert by what I could only call the spirits of inbred cultists who had recently discovered the banjo. Not a long story but one I was rather hoping would not repeat itself as I was once again falling. It was definitely not that, it ended up being worse but for the time no banjos. Not sure if that was an improvement.

No, instead we landed in front of the very temple that we were heading for in the first place. The only problem was the sizeable ork population that had turned it into their home. It did not help that the sentinel the inquisition had provided us was about as effective as an ork trying to read gothic, I should know. The damn thing only did one useful thing and that was blowing up the tree next to me. I use the term useful, rather loosely, I almost got splattered but the new ditch was rather effective as a piece of cover.

Even once the orks were dead we learned that they had been nothing. In many ways, perhaps the creatures were unwittingly protecting man from wondering into that den of heresy and madness. We walked into a land where reality had been torn asunder. With every step we took and every floor we descendent walked deeper along this Dantian path into an inferno of mans' desires.

We played games for which our very souls, beings, memories and more stood as the bets. They were the prices for any hesitation or loss. Each a game to see us weakened before we could strike down the true master of it all. Each of these horrid games played for the pleasure of a daemon robed in the flesh of a simple elder. Not all would make it.

The games were nothing compared to the horror's we saw in its master's chambers. Abominations, that moved with some disturbing semblance to humanity. Each creature born from men whose bodies had been twisted. Their great butcher was something none of us had ever imagined. A creature of only muscle and sinew and for every blow stuck upon it no sooner did blood spill did its muscles grew that much larger. A pale imitation of Cu Chulainn held in the hands of a crazed puppeteer. I do thank the creature though, without it I likely would not have been prepared for what was to come. To know the true strength of such daemons is awesome in their ferocity. I had not the time to so much as lift my blade, in parry, when its crude sharpened club impacted on against my head. It was the beasts final action as the neverborn's death began to claim it. A single swing would have cleaved the head from most men, split my skull.

Once it passed from this gap in our worlds, I could only collapse as Stubbs rushed to help me. A good man and one of the reasons many of us had yet met death. My head still bled once I awoke. Neither Stubbs's skill or the arcane technologies the Mechanicum had long ago placed into my blood seemed to stop this profane wound. Captain Gunther and Winter did the best to hold back the daemon's dark children, while the rest of us tried to cut them down. The grand hall we found ourselves in was filled with a symphony of lead and ballistic coughs.

The munitions were running shortly after a few minutes, every time we seemed to cut down one of the black beasts died

We did our best to regroup before we pushed into the heard of this darkness. With a heavy heart and but a shred of hope still burning we pushed into the chamber of a great daemon and her parasitic children. The battle was nothing like we thought, we were broken before we knew it. Cam Phane was cut down by horrid macabre fire before many of us could so much as draw a breath. The poor boy was still smiling as he died.

I am not sure how long it had been when I yelled, "Winter, Stubs, get the rest of squad out of here!" I think Winter tried to argue, the words are fuzzy now, like a flickering candle. That damn woman always wanted a hero's death. This moment though belonged to me and she relented and despite me dearest companion being dragged away I promised the little ork "Smackaface, you fething die and I will kill you..." I smiled before yelling back, "We'll get a drink soon buddy." They were the last words any of them ever heard me spoke. They were not my finest words but they had to carry back a lot of the injured and no one had time for more words. I was also never much of a poet, outside of my poems, in my youth

I did my best to keep the oil skinned admin for as long as I could though as my heavy stubber clicked away its final shots, I grabbed the blade at my hip. It was always strange holding it, an unnaturally comfortable flame filled my soul. My birthright sang like a harp as she was pulled from her scabbard. Its metal the hue or emerald shined like a newborn star in my hands. It had rarely used her... to do so was to other myself. A task that could be more than easily done without assistance. I charge the daemons though, a prayer for the winds of fate guide my sword.

The bleak neverborn abomination fell away with each strike. Their carapace skin providing no protection for the blessed blade. It was not them I was focused on though, the blade hungered for the true daemon that hung before me. The smile that hung on her face slowly being replaced with a snarl as the champion of she who thirsts' champion realized the sword wind that came for her.

She swung her staff down at me as I charged, catching my self only fast enough raise my blade in defense. The two artifacts impacting with a force that had not come from the daemon wielding it. A pair of screams echoing out from the relics, one that hungered and one that wanted bloodshed, and then the dance began. How my blade moved in our dance was beauty all its own. Like a maid so curious in her first gentle dance. Every moment elegant and defensive. No strike felt entirely my own. No movement or step of my invention, I simply knew what was asked of me and I could not have fought that will if I had wanted to. Instead, I submitted my self to the dance, singing words foreign to my tongue and yet they felt so familiar.

How long the two of us quarrel could not say. In the dance, time is an irrelevance. Victory though was never something within my grasp. For every wound that was inflicted about the daemon, it struck back thrice fold in anger. The armor that the cult mechinica's greatest smiths had pressed lay in broken shards about me, my nostrils and tongue burned with the smell of copper. The Seal of Yorke though remained upon my chest unmarred. I was not fast enough though, as I took a single sidestep and my foot twisted and in the moment of folly, the daemon thrust its stave against my chest and like a hot knife it ripped into my side. For a moment my soul felt divorced from me, being dragged away by the dark lady.

Knowing very well what could happen, I threw myself forward, no elegance just anger. If death would take me I would die on my feet. The blade went sliding into the demon's heart and my vision went white as my blade burned and the two of us fell. The beast's guttural cry tearing at the few loose fibers that held our planes apart.

Before I could process the shift from one madness to another, we were falling without moving. It was as if my soul was in translation and my flesh was merely a shell trying to keep up. My ears roared with a hatred that I have never known, a hatred that was not mine alone. It was the hatred of ten thousand years and dozens of souls rolling through my blade. Not even the deathly wails of the warp creature could match their intensity even as its "soul", a term used in only the loosest of senses, burned way. A death from which even the neverborn daemon could return.

And for a time I nearly drifted in this endless miasma of lights, sounds, and feelings. The sea of souls, a name that world once held, is a place like no other. I have no words that mortal tongues could ever truly describe it. It has a certain horror and wonders in equal measure that would drive most mad. I can tell you that it was a sight so unlike any other. I floated in a land of eternity. I could see all that was happening, I saw everything that ever was, and ever would be, just shifting around me.

I drew my blood slickened face up to towards what I could loosely call the sky, though in such a realm the bounds of reality such as direction seemed meaningless. I witnessed as the heavens were vast oceans, containing not water, but memories, drawn from the minds of dreamers, frozen in time, like paintings, perfect in each detail. I witnessed as the very essence of life, emotion, and thought collided in battle. A realm where everything is true and so no truth could ever stand but for the merest moment, that dragged on for all of the eternity.

I knew not the trials that would await me and the gods fighting about me. I knew not of my supporters or enemies in this realm. I simply closed my eyes and remembered my dear Marya, I could feel the gentle touch of that image of Hebe as our brashness assured hotter heads ruled the body. I thought of my dear Victor, a child to whom I then thought my earthly body would never hold. I thought of the promise I was breaking.

I have lived a life of which some men could only wish to see, and yet no matter my age, that burning brand still scars my heart as much as it did in those days. No pain, even from the twisted horror of the immaterial could scar me more.

I am not sure how long I fell, used in the losest terms, but the sudden end was just as jolting. My body and soul seeming to collide with one another rather than settle into one another. Despite having what I had assumed to be falling backward, I landed on my feet. The sabatons of my armor striking against the pale flesh like stone of this realm, made of the universal subconscious. I took not a moment myself, I began to scan the area. Too many combats had taught me to be particularly paranoid when it came to the great enemy. A lesson only to be learned again.

To my left stood a series of great rings that grew progressively taller the farther they extended outwards. Each was a monument to excess and pleasure. The moans and cries echoing out from them formed a perverse imitation of howling winds as the force of them blew back my hair. To my right was a tower of imperceivable height formed of an unholy collaboration of color of flesh rolling down to a shimmering alcazar of dreams and nightmares, of pleasures and pains rested so close. Even as I looked at it, I could feel the world began to bend as if it was trying to pull me. I need not have known what awaited for me in there, instinct filled me with horror and yet as I ran I seemed to be unmoving. The very air was pierced by a horrid laugh.

I am Ivan Yorke, child of Volk, son of Man, son of Eldar, friend to Gretchen and this was my death. Now my rebirth... well that is quite another story. I had to hold onto hope though if I was ever to be homeward bound. Though I knew well that I may never see any of it again.

* * *

The "death" of my character Ivan Yorke. The strangest human you would have ever met with a long history in my only war game I have been playing for months. I can tell you besides the befriending a gretchen, long story... his origins were completely the gm's idea. I knew it since before the battle report, it's just not mentioned in here before only hinted. But if you want the full take of what happened after this death ask of it in the comments and such

Check out fictionpress for my normal stories. 10/8/2017


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